Trevor Reese: His Protective Love Read online

  But still! The world was how the world was, and loving Carly wasn’t going to change that cold, hard fact. Which was why he hadn’t given her the green light to stop using birth control yet. Although, he suspected, she had given herself a green light.

  He swallowed down the last of his drink, sat the empty glass on the countertop, exhaled again, and then finally made his way upstairs.

  He fully expected Carly to still be fast asleep, dreaming the dreams that only the truly innocent could dream. But his expectation proved wrong.

  “Hey,” she said as soon as he walked in.

  Trevor looked at her. She looked as if she hadn’t just awakened, but was wide awake. Her big, beautiful eyes were a clear, golden, greenish-brown. She looked adorable. “I thought you were still asleep,” he said, walking toward their big bed.

  “I was.”

  “Until?”

  “Until you got out of bed.”

  Trevor was surprised. “You’ve been awake that long?”

  She smiled. “You make it sound as if I got up and performed a daring circus act. I was just lying here.”

  “Why didn’t you say something, sweetheart?” He sat on the side of their bed and folded his legs. “I was trying not to wake you.” He began rubbing her soft hair.

  “I didn’t see any need to say anything,” Carly said. “I’m sure there’s nothing I can say anyway. I know you got that phone call. I know you’ve got to leave.”

  A sad look appeared in her eyes. Trevor sighed with discontentment. He hated when he was the source of her sadness.

  “I also know,” she continued, “that you wouldn’t be leaving me if it wasn’t absolutely necessary. I know that.” Then she said a word that belied her knowledge. “Right?” she asked.

  The fact that she added that question made Trevor well aware of the fact that she still had some lingering doubt about whether or not he was just going because he wanted to go, or because he had no choice. “It’s a CSN, so yes, you’re correct. I absolutely wouldn’t be leaving my sweetheart if there was another way.”

  Carly knew what CSN meant. It meant can’t say no. It meant no matter what she said or how she felt, or even how he felt about it, he had to go. She used to cry and complain endlessly about those CSN assignments. And she still felt like doing so. But she’d learned in the time she’d been with Trevor that crying and complaining only made it harder on Trevor to do his job and to do it well. And in doing his job well, Carly knew, he got to come back home to her.

  Her complaining and crying days were over.

  She placed her small hand on the side of his rugged face. He had the face of a hard, cold man. He had a heart of gold. “How long will it take?” she asked him.

  “A couple days tops.”

  “You promise?”

  “I promise.”

  Carly nodded. At least it wouldn’t be all week long. “Be careful, please,” she said to him with a plea in her eyes.

  Trevor had to fight back his own emotions. He lifted the upper part of her naked body, pulling her into an upright position in bed, and pulled her into his arms, her bare breasts caving against his massive, bare chest. He hated leaving her more than she hated for him to leave. But he had to go. And they both knew it.

  When they stopped embracing, he leaned back, stared at her, and then placed his hands on either side of her pretty face and kissed her on her lips. He had every intention of giving her a sweet, simple kiss, then put on his clothes, and then leave. Just get the hell out before their emotions got the best of them.

  But she tasted too good. They kissed passionately.

  So passionately that Trevor removed his towel, got in bed beside her, and continued kissing her. They laid there and kissed so hard and for so long that Trevor’s dick felt like steel against Carly’s thigh.

  It was the kind of hard-on that had to be released-on.

  And Trevor wasn’t releasing on anybody but Carly.

  His fingers prepared her as he kissed her. During those several minutes, he had her so wet that she became saturated. Then he got on top of her and guided his dick, a dick that was so hard he didn’t need to use his hands, into her entrance.

  When he entered her, he let out a sensual sigh of relief. She was saturated with wetness, but it was still a tight fit the way it always was. So tight that it heightened his arousal and made him even bigger, and her passage even narrower.

  But he kept moving further inside of her, inching his way inside of her.

  Once completely in, he got into his rhythm.

  He wrapped her into his arms and closed his eyes as he fucked her. He’d never wanted to stay with anyone the way he wanted to stay with Carly right then and right there. He continued to make slow-motion, sensual love to her, to his brand-new wife, as if he had no plane to catch, no assignment to handle, no danger to face.

  As if they had all the time in the world.

  Until they both broke out into a pulse-pounding cum, and then laid there for far too long, unable to move.

  Until Carly brought them back to earth.

  She pushed him off of her and began getting out of bed. “You’ve got a plane to catch,” she reminded him.

  He could hear the undercurrent of sadness mixed with anger in her voice. He knew she hated that he had to go too. But he also knew she was going to send him off right, because Carly was that kind of girl.

  “I’ll prepare breakfast,” she said, although it wasn’t even four a.m., as she made her way toward their master bathroom.

  Trevor, frustrated, too, that he could not remain in bed with her, laid on his back and watched her beautiful, naked form retreat into their bathroom. He wanted her again already. He wanted her so badly that he was beginning to get yet another hard-on.

  But he knew he couldn’t go there. Had he gone there again, there was no way he was going to find the strength to leave her when he had to go and perform a duty he signed on to perform as a kid. A duty he was still obligated to perform all those years later. That job was going to be the death of his relationship yet.

  But it wasn’t dying yet, he thought, as he made his way into the bathroom. Fuck his duty. He had another duty, too, and that was to keep his young wife satisfied and pleased that she went down that primrose path with him.

  Carly was washing her hands at the vanity sink when he arrived in the bathroom. He hugged her from behind, pulled her tight ass against his rock-hard, still wet penis, and kissed her on the neck. And fondled her breasts. And then, as if to brand her with his mark when he’d branded her so many times before, he entered her once again.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Half an hour later, after Trevor had showered again, this time with Carly, and was putting on his Brook Brothers suit, as if he was going to his office and not to a messy assignment, his African son, a son he had only recently become acquainted with after going to Africa to rescue him from a dicey capture and bring him back to the States, was in the Camaro Trevor had purchased for him speeding toward his father’s house.

  When he arrived at the security gate outside of Trevor’s estate, the guards on duty lifted the gate automatically, they knew him by then, and the car sped through. He kept speeding along the long driveway until he slammed on brakes at the foot of the main house steps.

  Amari Reese, Trevor’s twenty-two year old biracial son who acquired his father’s last name almost as soon as he arrived in the States, jumped out of his car, bloodied and beaten, and dragged himself up those steps toward the front door. He was breathing heavily. His heart was racing too.

  Using the keycard that afforded him entrance into his father’s house without knocking, he unlocked the big, glass double-doors and flung them open.

  Trevor, now fully dressed in his suit and tie, was heading downstairs putting on his final cufflink, when his front door flung open. When he saw his son, and the condition his son was in, he frowned. “What the fuck,” he said loudly, and ran down those stairs.

  Carly was in the kitchen preparing an early
morning breakfast when she heard Trevor’s loud voice. Wearing his silk bathrobe, she ran into the foyer just as Trevor made it up to his son. His son fell against his chest. The head of Trevor’s ground security also ran into the house. “Is everything alright, sir?” the guard asked.

  But he knew as much as Trevor knew. “What’s happened, Amari?” Trevor asked his son. “What happened?”

  But Amari looked dazed. His big, hazel eyes looked at his father, but they had no sparkle.

  “Help him to the sofa,” Carly ordered the guard, seeing it, too, and the head guard and Trevor assisted Amari to the living room sofa.

  But Trevor needed to assess the danger. His son had to tell him what it was. “Who did this to you, Mari?” he asked him.

  “They did,” Amari said, still clutching his father’s shirt as he helped him to the sofa.

  “Who are they?” Trevor asked him.

  “They followed me,” Amari said.

  “Who followed you, Mari? Who?”

  “They followed me.”

  Trevor nodded and his head guard ran outside, to see if those fools were bold enough to attempt entry onto his property. “Call Doc Seinfeld,” Trevor ordered Carly as he pulled out the loaded gun he kept inside his belt against the small of his back, as he ran outside too.

  The grounds security, led by the head of security, were already running toward the gate when Trevor made it outside, and he ran that way, too. Two other guards, seeing that the boss was involved, ran toward Trevor, to provide him protection.

  But Trevor didn’t need protection. “Secure my entire property,” he was yelling as he ran. “I want no gaps, front nor back!”

  “Yes, sir!” one of the guards said, and both guards hurried to do as they were ordered.

  Trevor didn’t stop running until he was outside the gate looking up and down the private street fronting his house.

  “Anybody?” he asked the guard in charge.

  “Nobody,” the guard replied. “The front gate guards saw nothing. We saw nothing.”

  Trevor exhaled. “Lock it down,” he said, heading back in. “Nobody’s getting through, I don’t care if they work here.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And that means nobody!” Trevor ordered, as he hurried back inside.

  By the time he made it back inside of his home, Carly had gotten the full story. And it wasn’t as it had been presented when Amari first walked through their door.

  She and Amari were still sitting on the sofa, with Amari slumped down. Carly had given him an icepack and Amari had his head leaned back with the pack resting over his swollen eye.

  “Did you call the doctor?” Trevor asked Carly.

  Carly shook her head. “No, I didn’t,” she said.

  Trevor frowned. “No. Why not, Car? I told you to get Doc Seinfeld over here.”

  Carly looked at Amari. “Tell him, Mari,” she said.

  Amari, who was normally good-natured and easygoing, frowned. “I’m in agony over here!”

  Although Carly and Amari were both in their twenties, he was not Carly’s equal, Trevor made clear to Amari when he first arrived in the States. And Carly never hesitated to exert that authority. “What did I say?” she asked firmly. “Tell him, boy!”

  But Trevor was the one confused. “Tell me what?” he asked her.

  “Tell him who did this,” Carly said to Amari.

  Trevor was shocked. He leaned forward. He had a plane to catch, but his son came first. “You know who did this?” he asked. “I thought you said you didn’t know who did it.”

  “I do not,” said Amari. He spoke perfect English in his African accent.

  Trevor looked at Carly. What was she talking about, his looked seemed to suggest.

  “He doesn’t know the name,” Cary said, “but he knows who did it.”

  “Who?” Now Trevor was getting upset. He didn’t have time for this shit and both Amari and Carly knew it. “Tell me, Mari, I don’t have all fucking morning! Who did it?”

  Amari exhaled. He really didn’t want to go there. “I met this girl at the club,” he said. “She invited me to her place.”

  “Yeah, so?” Trevor was impatient now.

  “We were upstairs.”

  “In her bedroom,” Carly volunteered.

  Amari nodded. “Yes, it was her bedroom, okay? We were in her bedroom. And then . . . And then . . .”

  “And then what?” Trevor asked.

  “And then her husband arrived home.”

  Trevor frowned. “Her husband? You mean to tell me this is because you were screwing a married woman and her husband jumped your ass?”

  “He was a vicious fellow, Father. He wasn’t just any husband.”

  Trevor let out a harsh exhale. He couldn’t believe this shit! He rose to his feet. “Go to bed and sleep it off,” he said. “Then get your ass up and go to your own house.”

  “But . . .” Amari removed the icepack from his eye. “What are you saying, Father?” He sat upright. “We need to go after him. He and his son jumped all upon me, and they chased me from their property.”

  “I would have chased your ass, too,” Trevor said, “if you would have fucked my old lady.”

  “But he nearly killed me, Father! He and that boy of his. I fought valiantly, but it was two of them and they both were three-times my size! Four-times!”

  “Yeah, sure they were,” Trevor said. Then he looked at Carly. “That breakfast ready yet?” he asked her.

  Carly smiled and nodded, rising to her feet. “It’s ready,” she said. “You hungry, Mari?” she asked as she and Trevor headed toward the kitchen.

  Amari was amazed. “What are you guys doing? I nearly died!”

  “And you would have gotten what you deserved,” Trevor said. “Fucking a married woman. He had every right to kick your ass.”

  Amari leaned his head back, and placed his icepack back on his swollen eye. He was still upset, but also very relieved he made it out of there alive. Those people, he felt, were vicious!

  But inside the kitchen, Carly wasn’t as hard-edged as Trevor was concerning what happened. She remembered the first time she met Trevor. He was handling PR for a United States Senator. A married United States Senator he was having an affair with. “Of course, during your bachelor days, you would have never been in bed with a married woman,” she said, and glanced back at him as she made her way to the stove. “Would you?”

  “In bed with a married lady?” Trevor responded, sitting at the center island. “I’m not answering that question.”

  Carly laughed.

  “Caught in bed with a married lady?” Trevor asked, continuing his response. “Never.”

  Carly shook her head. He wasn’t a saint. That was for certain. She did not marry a saint. But, she also knew, he was still a very good man.

  A good man, she thought sadly, about to leave her alone again.

  CHAPTER THREE

  “That’s her?”

  “That’s her.”

  “Wow. Now that’s a body I can work with.”

  Shayanna “Shay” Davis looked at her brother. “You’d better keep your hands off of her, Jace,” she said to him. “I’m warning you now. Trevor Reese will kill you if you touch that girl.”

  But Jason Davis was not impressed. “Nonsense!” he said. “She’s a living, breathing individual. If she likes what she sees, which she will, and if I like what I see, which I do, no man can stop us from doing whatever we want to do. Slavery days are over!”

  “Yeah, right,” said Melissa Cohen, who sat across from the siblings in the same booth. “You’d better listen to your sister and leave Carly Sinatra-Reese alone. Because if you mess with her even a little bit, we will be attending your funeral next Saturday because Shay is right. Trevor Reese will kill you.”

  Shay and Melissa laughed and high-fived. But Jason ignored them. He was too busy staring at the pretty woman who was approaching their table.

  They were at a restaurant in downtown Boston, and Ca
rly had agreed to stop by for drinks. She didn’t know Jason. He was an out-of-towner visiting his sister. But his sister and Melissa were two of her closest friends.

  Dressed in a form-fitting dress that highlighted a fine shape Jason could not take his eyes off of, Carly plopped down on the booth seat beside Melissa and sat her purse and keys on the tabletop. “Sorry I’m late, guys,” she said as she sat. “I had a management meeting at TRM that wouldn’t end.” TRM stood for Trevor Reese Marketing where Carly was recently promoted to Chief Operating Officer. “They wanted to air their grievances about why Trevor isn’t doing this like they suggested or doing that like they suggested when all I wanted to do was discuss a new hire. When Trevor’s in town, they behave as if nothing’s wrong. But when he’s gone and I’m in charge? They talk for hours. And all complaints. Never any compliments. It’s ridiculous.”

  “Isn’t it crazy?” agreed Melissa. “My managers do me the same way. I’m the senior VP where I work, and yes, I have the authority to handle some high-up personnel matters, but they always wait until the big boss is away to come running to me with their complaints about this person or that person. Never when the big boss is onsite. I think it’s because we’re women.”

  “Or more specifically,” said Shay, “because we’re black women. I get the same treatment. I think they view us as more understanding and sympathetic than our white, male bosses.”

  “Sympathetic?” Jason asked. “Or easy?”

  “No, I think Shay is right,” said Carly, and the ladies laughed. They preferred to be thought of as understanding and sympathetic rather than easy.

  Jason smiled, too, as he looked over his sister’s head and snapped his fingers. “Waiter,” he said, and the waiter nodded.

  “What would you care to drink?” Jason asked Carly.

  Carly sliced a strand of hair out of her face. Who was this person? “Just water,” she responded. “I’ve got another meeting when I leave here. I show up drunk, they’ll run straight to Trevor.”

  They laughed, and Jason gave the approaching waiter her drink order.